


Cinquefoil

by starr_falling



Series: to seek a newer world [7]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Shire, Domestic, Fluff, GFY, Hobbit Big Bang 2016, Hobbit Story, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6904615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starr_falling/pseuds/starr_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo and Thorin are about to become parents. Thorin feels in no way prepared, but he couldn't imagine being happier anyhow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinquefoil

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [hobbitstory](http://hobbitstory.livejournal.com/). If you hover over the Khuzdul words, a translation should pop up. You can also find the translations in the end notes.
> 
> Amazing [artwork](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6779185) made by the lovely [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria). Awesome [artwork](http://scheissedraws.tumblr.com/post/144666242021/to-seek-a-newer-world-by-starrfalling-after-the) made by the also lovely [scheissedraws](http://scheissedraws.tumblr.com/).

Bilbo bustled around the garden checking on the birthing flowers. There was no damage by insects, nor any signs of sickness. All the plants were healthy and thriving, a good sign that the faunt was developing well.

Next, Bilbo checked for buds. There were still quite a few, so Bilbo guessed they still had at least two months before the birth. A bit long for growth but then, according to Thorin, dwarrow babies take nearly a year to grow. All in all, things were looking good and Bilbo was quite satisfied.

Though the addition of hellebore to the garden was less than auspicious.

He reminded himself it could have been much worse. It could have been buttercups. The bluebells and ivy that had recently sprung up were much more relieving. And Bilbo was sure he and Thorin could do with a little luck.

  
  
Art by [scheissedraws](http://scheissedraws.tumblr.com)  


Still, the birthing flowers were more possibility than prediction. Bilbo would count his blessings and worry about any scandals when they came.

Of more interest to him was the variety of flowers. It was quite unusual to have so many different ones in the same birthing garden. And the garden itself was half again as large as his own had been. Bilbo supposed it could be the influence of the faunt's dual heritage, hobbit and dwarf. And certainly dwarrow were typically larger than the average hobbit, so their child might just need a bit more room to grow.

But eying the riotous and overflowing garden, Bilbo suspected they were going to be rather more blessed–and _busy_ –than they had anticipated.

* * *

“My, that is such an–interesting–mix,” Lobelia's voice snapped Bilbo out of his thoughts. “One might even call it garish.”

“One might if one were rude enough to do so,” Bilbo returned dryly. He eyed the garden and had to huff ruefully. “At least none of them clash.”

“I suppose that's true,” Lobelia managed to sound doubtful and agreeing at the same time. “Though, the hellebore doesn't quite match.”

“No, it doesn't,” Bilbo sighed and pushed himself to his feet. He continued as he turned to face her. “But not wholly unexpected for the child of Mad Baggins, I'm sure.”

“I'm honestly surprised it doesn't show up in the garden of everyone of Took blood,” Lobelia said absently, attention still focused on the garden. “It didn't grow in yours and look how you turned out, after all.”

Bilbo stared at her blankly before dissolving into giggles. Lobelia's eyebrow rose so high it disappeared beneath her carefully arranged hair.

“Can you imagine?” he asked breathlessly. “I'm the biggest scandal to hit the Shire in at least five generations and I didn't even have hellebore as a birth flower.”

The look of absolute horror that crossed her face only made him laugh harder.

* * *

Thorin knelt in the dirt before the riotous patch of flowers. He knew his husband and the other hobbits could read a deeper meaning into the colorful flowers but all he saw was the undeniable proof of life.

He could see a single bud from where he sat. He longed to look for others, to see how long it would be before he could hold their child in his arms. But the blooms were so delicate and his hands were large and rough. He dared not touch them, let alone walk among them with his large, heavy boots. It gave him enough of a heart attack to watch his little husband step delicately through them.

Would their child be as delicate as these blossoms?

He remembered holding Fíli and Kíli just after they were born. They had seemed so small in his hands; he couldn't begin to imagine how much smaller a hobbit babe would be. He couldn't quite imagine his own large, blunt hands–rough from a lifetime of hard labor–cradling something so precious and breakable.

Sometimes he worried about how small _Bilbo_ seemed in his hands.

Hesitantly, he reached out, extending a single finger to graze the nearest bloom. Bilbo had told him it was called a violet. The name seemed appropriate, given its color. He might better understand about flowers if they were all so sensible. But then, there was another purple flower next to the violet, so he supposed it might be difficult to name them all for their color.

He couldn't remember what the second flower was called, only that Bilbo had said it was lucky. It seemed rather auspicious and appropriate given one of the babe's parents was the Luckwearer.

The petal was velvety soft against his skin. It bent under his touch and he snatched his hand back as if burned.

“It's okay,” Bilbo was suddenly beside him, trying to pry apart hands clutched together in a bruising grip. “You didn't hurt it, Thorin. It's okay.”

Thorin took several deep breaths and let them out slowly. He unclenched his hands and allowed his husband to cup them, exploring them with gentle fingers. He dared a glance at the flower and was dismayed to see that the petal looked bruised.

“I have damaged it,” Thorin barely choked past the tightness in his throat.

“The faunt is fine,” Bilbo's face was earnest when he tipped it up to meet Thorin's eyes. “You can't hurt it by hurting the flowers. I promise.”

“Truly?” Thorin didn't think he had sounded so small since long before Erebor fell.

“The flowers are only symbolic,” Bilbo assured, smiling brightly. “If they get damaged, they just grow back. Even in the Fell Winter the blooms grew anew each day and the faunts were born just fine. We only need to worry if they start to look sickly.”

Thorin closed his eyes, shaken by the intensity of the relief that rushed through him.

Thorin was silent for a long time, eyes on where their hands were still clasped. Finally, he raised his eyes to meet his husbands, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek.

“Thank you, ghivashel,” Thorin pressed their foreheads together, never taking his eyes off Bilbo's.

  
  
Art by [scheissedraws](http://scheissedraws.tumblr.com)  


* * *

Thorin roused slowly to the sound of his husband's voice. He sat up slowly, trying to wake up enough to pay attention to what Bilbo was saying.

It was the third night in a row he'd spent outside, taking turns keeping watch over the birthing garden. It was apparently well known, and lamented, that those of Took blood often were born at night. Bilbo himself had been born shortly before dawn and his own mother at precisely midnight.

“It's time,” Bilbo's face looked joyous by the light of the full moon.

Thorin sat up abruptly as his meaning finally penetrated. He groaned as his neck and back cracked, his body voicing its displeasure after spending several nights on the ground.

“How long?” Thorin asked, eyes wide as the flowers swayed gently even though the night air was still.

“Not long, they seem quite impatient,” Bilbo turned back to the garden but kept one of Thorin's hands clasped in his own.

“They?” Thorin asked slowly, not taking his eyes off the garden.

“Yes, see there is two distinct sets of motion,” Bilbo pointed at a spot near them, then to another further along. “Twins, how felicitous!”

Thorin gulped as he realized Bilbo was right. The flowers closest to him seemed to sway first towards and then away from them. The farther patch seemed more erratic, almost swirling. Bilbo had told him of his suspicious but Thorin had had a hard time believing he could be blessed with even one child, let alone two.

Thorin and Bilbo sat side by side, hands clasped tightly as they watched over their garden. It seemed an eternity, and entirely too soon, when the still night air was pierced by a thin wail. Bilbo hopped up and over to the far side of the garden before Thorin could even stand. By the time Thorin had made it to his husband's side, Bilbo had crouched down and stood up again.

In his arms was an impossibility.

She looked tiny even next to Bilbo. He couldn't tell what shade her hair might be, only that it was pale enough to be silvered by the moonlight. Her eyes were wide and dark over the sharp blade of her nose.

She was utterly perfect.

Before Thorin could give in to the tears he could feel burning in the backs of his eyes, there was a second cry from behind them. A single step was all it took to reach the spot where pale skin shone out from beneath the thick leaves and blooms. Thorin knelt carefully and gently parted the plants to reveal his second child.

  
Art by [penumbria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbria)

She was dark haired and eyed with a nose as delicate as the rest of her and as perfect as her sister.

With all the gentleness Thorin could muster, he picked her up and cradled her to his chest. She squirmed about, squinting up at him suspiciously. Thorin laughed as he turned to Bilbo, showing her to his husband. Their eyes meet and Thorin could see Bilbo's smile was as wide as the one he could feel stretching his own face.

“Well, then,” Bilbo crooned softly. “I guess it's a good thing we picked out so many potential names.”

Thorin huffed gently, following his husband into the warmth of their home.

**Author's Note:**

> Cinquefoil - beloved daughter  
> Hellebore - scandal, calumny  
> Buttercup - ingratitude, childishness, desire for riches  
> Bluebell - constancy  
> Ivy – friendship, affection, fidelity, loyalty, marriage, also considered good luck by some
> 
> As always, thanks for the fantastic Khuzdul resources goes to [The Dwarrow Scholar](https://dwarrowscholar.wordpress.com/), [khuzdul4u.tumblr.com](http://khuzdul4u.tumblr.com/), and [determamfidd](http://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd). 
> 
> ghivashel - treasure of treasures


End file.
